


Mentor Me

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Series: Upon Request [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Older Man/Younger Man, Omega Peter Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Power Dynamics, Puberty, References to Knotting, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Stiles goes into heat without a mentor picked out to help him through his first time. Peter is the only omega around on call, but it turns out he may just be the exact right person for the job.





	Mentor Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created for a prompt given to me over on [my tumblr](http://www.drivenbyadevilshunger.tumblr.com). If you'd like to request one of your own, head on over and take a gander at all my works.

Mentors have always been in vogue. Sure the stylings have changed every decade— whether people found it fashionable to have someone of the opposite sex, someone of a certain age, even multiples— but one thing stayed inevitably true. Once you present, it’s the duty of your new community to coach you through. 

Breeding would come without effort, the hormones too much to ignore, so it was no skin off someone’s back to spend their first few years of sexuality learning themselves and what they needed in a safe, guided environment. Alphas showed other alphas the best way to tease their knot, how to use their strength to make their partner feel protected instead of threatened, tied each other so they would know the care it took to stretch someone wide enough to take them. 

For omegas, there were slightly less logistical issues to work out. Instead they luxuriated over how to ride their waves of pleasure, to manage the rhythms and continually crest into multiple orgasms that would ensure fertile breeding and drive their alphas wild with lust. 

The pleasure could be finicky, held on a tenuous thread. It was all too easy to stomp on it, to crash too hard on an unexpected swell. Their bodies were sensitive and complex and needy. Stiles found his even more so than other friends who had woken with sweats in the middle of the night to their hole cramping, pearly slick trickling out their ass and staining the sheets. 

On his own, in the time spent trying to acquire a mentor to show him the ropes, he’d not yet been able to find pleasure himself. He’d come, sure, but it was always too much, overly sensitive or even painful, often unsatisfactory. His fingers shook and cramped as he fitfully plugged them inside himself with pitiful whimpers. 

He’d presented late, a lot of available male omegas were already taken. He felt too shy and awkward with a woman, at this point didn’t care about age or temperament. So he got Peter Hale. Gossipers called him a nympho. They said his brain got cooked in a too early heat and now he had strange ideas about the way things worked. 

All Stiles knew for sure was he was unmated at middle age, a true rarity in their culture, and he seemed quite content with it. Handsome, devilish, horny. There was no reason for him not to be pupped, and yet—. His dad wasn’t sure, a sheriff always antsy about sending his boy into the arms of a relative stranger, but what mattered was that Peter was functioning, which meant he knew what to do with his body. 

Stiles just waved his father away, begged him to give them twelve hours unimpeded. Seeing as how he was rutting, naked, sweat soaking his sheets and his plush, pink hole all puffy with need, he got what he wanted. 

He doesn’t even really remember Peter first arriving— the fog of his desperation was so strong. He just remembers that that roiling heat, the steam that seemed to lick across his body in painful lashes, began to turn. It still ran in slivering curves around him, but started to caress, to tingle and titillate. 

He buried his face in his sheets as he squirmed and mewled and undulated to try and catch the wisps of pleasure. His slick was so thick and potent, gushing from his ass and lazily dripping down his balls, dark and pungent as molasses. It had felt irritating just minutes ago, but now the lazy trails brought tickles of sensation that made him clench, pushing out more and more. 

A pit had formed in the center of his belly. It started small, but grew and grew, sitting heavier and heavier. Stiles tried to put his hands to pit, pressing down on his soft muscle and massaging at the bead. He found himself starting to feel like the stone fruit it sat inside. He was ripe— skin supple and smooth, flesh soft, full of sticky, sweet juices. 

He was tender and flowering and ready. He just needed someone to take a bite. Luckily for him, he’d chosen a mentor with an infamous appetite. Stiles was to Peter’s first chance at a mentorship and he could think of nothing better than  _ devouring  _ this fecund treat. 

Middle finger jamming in that virgin cunt to soften him up, free hand squeezing at his pretty, pink tits, mouth humming as he licked at that little, hard cock. In his fervor, Stiles started sucking on Peter’s hands, fucking against his belly, greedily pulling more and more fingers inside. It was rare for someone his age to be so voracious, but near his third orgasm he was nearly being fisted, gobbling at whatever was thrust inside while his eyes remained listlessly cloudy. 

They fucked for seven of those twelve hours, napped in the damp, sticky sheets the rest. Peter gripped at the stubble on Stiles’ head as he shoved the young boy face first into his own hungry hole, put them ass to ass with toys in between, getting him to try and find a rhythm for them both, showed the boy that though their cocks were small and their semen blank, stimulating them still rocketed the pleasure higher and higher. 

“I’m gonna swallow you whole and never spit you back out.” Stiles only had the faculties to nod, slow at first, but then more and more vigorous. Mentorships usually ended when the younger party went away to college, ready to dip their feet in the pool of life, including with members of the opposite presentation. Stiles showed up to campus with a sugar daddy paying his way, a partner already set in stone, and the most regular, fantastic sex a boy could dream of. 


End file.
